Assassin of the Heart: Book Two: The Temple Islands Series

by Richard Parker

  “Three miles…maybe less,” the Captain answered swiveling slightly in the saddle to gaze at the ground behind him. “They’re not in sight at the moment.” The column of Toranado horsemen behind them also increased their pace, anticipating the coming action.

  Pachout nodded, thankful for the low clouds and the mist, which was a constant from the sea. The rise in the land was gradual but steady, and the horizon still remained hidden, which was just what Pachout desired. When they reached the top of the rise the road descended once more, and though the rate of descent was not great, it was enough.

  “Here,” the General said. “Fan the men out from there,” he said, indicating a rocky point in the hillside, “to the edge of the beach and rest the horses as you can.”

  Captain Pless nodded, smiling a little. It was a good spot, out in the open yet hidden enough to conceal a thousand men and horses. They may surprise the Knights yet. He rode off to set up the ambush.

  “Captain,” Pachout called after him, “make sure to keep the men off the sand.”

  Pless gave a sharp salute. He had confidence in his General.

  The men waited for over an hour just beyond the rise and out of sight while Pachout and his three Captains lay flat in the yellow grass, which stubbornly clung to the sandy ground at the very top of the rise. Pachout remained patient…waiting, but he could feel the restlessness spreading out from his Captains, especially the young Pless.

  “They’ll come,” the General said softly and noticed the first drop of rain as it struck the ground next to his hand. Pachout closed his eyes and wished for a squall to appear at the right moment. It would hide their presence much longer. The rain did not come, but the Temple Knights finally did.

  They rode into sight, moving at a relatively quick pace. They were also bunched too tightly together, but Pachout did not mind in the least. It was about time these arrogant Knights made a mistake.

  “Warn the men,” he said softly to his three Captains, two of which started slowly back down the hillside. “Pless, you stay with me,” the General ordered and then he waited, watching silently for another five long minutes before he too moved down the hill to his mount, Captain Pless in his wake. The General climbed up into the saddle as quietly as possible, adjusted his lance and then paused a moment before raising his right arm. He held it up and could feel all the eyes of his men upon him, waiting for his signal to attack. He dropped his hand once and the men on his far left instantly rode forward gaining speed and whooping at the top of their lungs as they pushed their horses to the top of the hillside. Pachout raised his arm once more, waited several long moments then dropped it again and the middle and the right thundered into the attack together. As they topped the rise the Toranado General could tell that his timing was perfect. The Knights were close and already shifting their position to meet the threat from the left, which was a mistake as the main attack suddenly came at them from the front and right.

  Pachout had little time to gloat, however, for a moment later he and the men around him crashed into the disoriented lines of the Temple Knights. The fight was fierce and quick, over in less than a quarter of an hour as Pachout’s force disengaged and raced once more down along the road to the east. A few small groups of Knights broke discipline and pursued until their commanders, who feared another planned ambush, reined them in.

  Pachout and his cavalrymen rode hard for another thirty minutes before slowing their horses to a walk. They did not stop to assess their losses, rather they did so on the move, and it wasn’t until nearly an hour after the battle that the General realized Captain Pless was among the missing. He took the time to ask those around him about the young Captain.

  “Yes Sir,” Sergeant Lowery said as he rode alongside. “I saw him fall in the very beginning of the attack. Whatever his wounds, he was also trampled.” Lowery added, knowing that Pless was among the General’s favorites.

  Pachout remained stoic for a short moment before turning to Lowery. “How many more?”

  Lowery gave a grim smile. “Not many. We’re missing thirty-four in all.”

  ‘Thirty-four,’ Pachout thought. It was a very small number for such a large engagement. The ambush went better than he could have ever hoped. It would give the Knights pause and perhaps slow their pursuit enough for his soldiers to reach the Mac, but his satisfaction was tempered by the loss of Pless…and the others.

  “Keep them moving slowly,” he finally ordered. “We’ll ride until sundown.”

  As he spoke, the squall he’d wished for earlier finally hit them.

  ǂ

  Gwaynn’s friends, those who knew him best, were looking at him a little differently the past week and a half. He was a Traveler now; a mystery; an enigma. Even Krys had a strange look in his eye when he spoke to him, and treated him a bit formally which Gwaynn did not like at all. He made the most of the past week, practicing with Jess na Gall, as the rest of the camp made ready to march to Colchester. His early success on the first day was followed with disappointment. Gwaynn had failed to Travel successfully since and was draining considerable energy from his body during the simple act of projection. At this point it was just not possible for him to project without concentrating on slowing time. He didn’t know any other way to reach the level of concentration needed to be in two places at once. As na Gall predicted he had a mechanism for deep concentration, the trouble was it took so much energy that there was little left for Traveling. Although Gwaynn was far from frustrated, he could tell that na Gall was confused by his lack of recent success, but he would not tell her about his abilities with time unless it became absolutely necessary.

  And though na Gall seemed to be at a loss to explain Gwaynn’s recent struggles, he quickly realized that he was just very tired. He was expending far too much energy. It was Gwaynn who suggested that Laynee train him on the twenty-nine steps needed to project and the young girl took to her new task with zeal, badgering the Prince to practice if his other duties kept him away from his learning for too long.

  “No…no, your left hand is too high,” the young girl said showing him the proper position. She gripped her pony tightly with her small thighs as they rode slowly toward Colchester.

  Gwaynn watched her and adjusted his motions immediately.

  “Good. You’re doing very good,” she encouraged as if Gwaynn were a small child. He smiled indulgently at her, but Krys, who rode on the far side of the young Traveler, just rolled his eyes.

  They both looked up as they heard the pounding of hooves in the distance. Captain Tanner, who was scouting ahead of the column, rode directly toward them.

  “I think we may be finished for the day Laynee,” Gwaynn said to his young teacher. “Go back with the Zarina now.”

  “Ok,” the girl said, and without any argument did as she was told.

  “Does she have to teach you here, out in the open?” Krys asked turning to watch Laynee ride away.

  “Sath thinks it wise,” Gwaynn answered, and he glanced back to look for Samantha, but she was lost in the crowd of horses, wagons and men. He’d spent precious little time with her recently and was beginning to regret it, not knowing how much they would have together in the near future, or for that matter, in the whole of the future. War was an unpredictable action and either of them could be killed without warning. Gwaynn shook his head, preferring not to think about it.

  “Humph! I thought I was your Weapons Master.”

  Gwaynn laughed. “You are, but Sath is one of my advisors. His says my abilities to Travel gives the men heart, especially the inexperienced. Sath says they believe they’re following someone with destiny on his side.”

  Krys said nothing as Tanner rode closer.

  “Sath believes that if the men have strong faith it helps them in battle.”

  “Well, he would know more about that, I suppose,” Krys conceded as Tanner pulled up next to them.

  “Bock spotted the Toranado coming out of the hills west of Colchester,” Tanner said with a dirty, sw
eaty grin. The day was going to grow hot. There was a bank of low dark clouds coming over the mountains to the west but if they received any precipitation Gwaynn felt it would be light and quick.

  “He says they’re moving fast, and will likely beat you to the town if you don’t speed it up.”

  “We’ll pick up the pace,” Gwaynn promised. “Sath?”

  “He’s in town waiting,” Tanner answered. “There’re another couple of hundred volunteers with him. He’s looking through them for any possible Deutzani spies.”

  “Have you seen them?” Krys asked.

  Tanner nodded. “I took a gander.”

  “How many of value?” Krys continued. They were getting many, many volunteers but only a small percentage had any experience. There were always a number of strong young lads, who could be trained, but many were old and past their prime, pride and hatred for the Deutzani driving them to join the young Prince in the fight.

  “Fifty, maybe sixty,” Tanner answered. “Probably won’t have any more. They tell us the Deutzani have reinforced Manse with a ten thousand man army, closing off the gaps in the Scar.

  Gwaynn frowned.

  “Ten thousand?” Krys exclaimed loudly.

  Tanner laughed. “I wouldn’t take it to heart. Men, especially those new to war, have a tendency to exaggerate.”

  “Any way we could be sure?” Krys asked.

  “Master Sath was wondering that very thing.”

  Gwaynn nodded. “I’ll get Bock on it when we arrive in Colchester. Get something to eat and then head back.”

  Tanner grinned at the thought of food then looked to the sky. “Gonna rain soon,” he added and rode away back toward the wagons.

  Both Gwaynn and Krys silently studied the sky for a moment then Gwaynn spurred Eve toward the front of the column to see if he could speed things along.

  “It will be good to get to a town,” he added and Krys could only agree.

  ǂ

  High Tar Kostek watched as Tarina Grace drilled the students from his old quarter down on the beach.

  “You miss it terribly,” Zarina Monde commented, looking up at the older, stoic Tar.

  Kostek nodded without taking his eyes from the students below.

  “They’re a dynamic group. I enjoyed them all,” he answered then smiled as one particular student made a move that would have been the envy of any Tar, dropping her opponent heavily in the sand.

  “I’ll miss training Vio most of all. She’s something very special,” he added.

  Monde remained silent for a time also watching, and yes the Valencia girl was clearly talented, even she could see that. She would be a terror at this year’s Competitions. Monde only hoped there would be spectators to witness them. She was beginning to have her doubts. She was still shaken by Speaker Tearrio’s latest report and was not at all sure the world she lived in was sane anymore. Nothing about it made sense these days. She would have dismissed the news as dangerous speculation if not for the fact that the High King had already moved openly against the Traveler’s. Now however, she just thought the whole world mad. The Temple Knights in open battle against one of the Great Families. It was beyond belief. It was lunacy.

  She passed the news directly to High Tar Kostek late last night, but he only acknowledged that he’d heard and then summarily dismissed her without word. Even this morning, though he’d summoned her at first light, he kept his thoughts carefully hidden. She was anxious to hear his position, hear the direction he would guide Noble. Surely they could not stand idly by. High King Mastoc was obviously unfit to rule. He was leading them all to chaos, or worse.

  Even so she said nothing about it as she walked and waited by the High Tar’s side, but she silently found herself wishing that Tar Amon were yet alive. He was a strong, decisive leader, something they all would need in the critical days ahead.

  They stood on the top of the dune overlooking the Sea and the students sparring in the sand below for another quarter of an hour before Kostek turned with a sigh.

  “The Council will convene in two days to decide our reaction to recent events,” Kostek said simply, as he too wished life for his old friend Amon. The last High Tar was always the thinker. He would know what to do, Kostek was sure of it.

  “The High King is mad,” Monde said, unable to suppress her opinion any longer. “First the Travelers, then the Toranado. He will destroy everything!”

  ‘First the Massi…’ Kostek thought, but he said nothing. Such information would just fuel Monde’s position for war. War! The Tars of Noble Island had not gone to such extremes for over a thousand years. How could they? All the Tars were from many different lands and the students attended from all over the Inland Sea. They were necessarily neutral, necessarily without political aims or goals. They lived to train others, not to decide their fates, or the fates of the Families. War would be divisive and ultimately pit Tar against Tar, student against student…and he could not have that.

  Monde sighed heavily when the High Tar did not answer, did not even react. She wanted to press him further, but held her tongue. The Travelers needed Noble Island now more than ever and she couldn’t risk putting such protection in jeopardy. The Tars were the only thing standing in the way of complete eradication of all the Travelers and their lore. Their legacy, which was handed down through the ages, began with Galen Dawkins himself and was far too important to risk. No matter what else, the Travelers must survive.

  Tar Kostek looked down at the small woman and actually smiled.

  “I cannot spur Noble to war without the Council’s approval,” he finally said and her eyes jerked up quickly and hope spread across her face.

  “And if the Council decides otherwise?” Monde asked.

  Kostek shrugged. “The Council only rules over Noble, as individuals we are all free to do as we please if we care to leave the island.”

  Monde gasped. “You would consider such a thing?”

  “I’ve been considering it since you gave me the report from Toranado,” he answered. “But I’ll wait to hear what the Council makes of it, and if they need a bit of persuading perhaps I will contact the Solitaries. Tar Nev may be intrigued by the news.”

  “Tar Nev,” Monde repeated softly, this time with hope and a great deal of awe. If the legendary Tar could be swayed to fight, the whole of Noble would follow him, she was sure of it. Not even the Temple Knights would dare to take on the full might of the Tars after all it was the Tars themselves who’d put High King Mastoc’s line on the throne those thousand years ago. “If he would but fight…” she said letting her voice trail off as a couple of students ran by, heading in the opposite direction.

  “We shall see,” Kostek said and again wished that Tar Amon was with them still.

  ǂ

  Despite the predictions, Gwaynn led the large group of soldiers, horses, wagons, and women, plus the many others who gravitated toward an army in times of war, into the outskirts of Colchester before the Toranado were in sight. Krys still rode next to Gwaynn, while Samantha rode on the other side; she’d finally joined them several miles back. She greeted Gwaynn happily, obviously pleased to be riding with him, but beyond that she fell into a silence and once again the tension mounted. Krys tried to break it for a time before giving it up as hopeless. Although the air between the two crackled, both Gwaynn and Samantha were actually pleased with the situation. They were happy to be near one another, though they each did their best not to show it. Krys, exasperated, spent the remainder of the trip blatantly ignoring them.

  Marcum and Tanner rode ahead to prepare the town, which was larger than Koshka, but not by much. The people of Colchester lined the main street, cheering and waving as their Prince rode by and the town magistrate waited in the central square to meet him.

  Samantha kept a close eye on Gwaynn as he rode through the cheering throngs, and she could tell that he was pleased though uncomfortable with all the adulation.

  “A little overwhelming isn’t it,” she said to him, leaning o
ver close so that he could hear her over the crowd noise.

  “I haven’t done anything to deserve this,” Gwaynn answered back as they stopped their horses near the center of town. A soldier immediately appeared to take the reins from him as he dismounted. Samantha gracefully dropped from her own horse on the same side as Gwaynn and for a long moment they stood very close to one another.

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” she said looking up into his eyes and wondering how she’d ever seen the reflection of the Executioner in them. Killer, the Prince might be, but never an Executioner. “You survived with the entire Deutzani army after you as well as the High King.”

  Gwaynn smiled at her, and a sudden desire to kiss her swept through him. The emotion was so powerful the muscles in his legs began to quiver slightly. Something must have passed over his face, because Samantha’s face turned slightly pink and she smiled shyly at him.

  “Maybe later,” she whispered and placed a soft hand on his elbow then turned him to face the waiting civic leaders of Colchester.

  A large, round, broad shouldered man with a red nose and full beard approached. Gwaynn took him in quickly and was reminded a bit of Zebo Sorbello, the Speaker. The man was dressed in his finest suit complete with pocket watch and polished boots. He grinned nervously at Gwaynn and then bowed before him. The party of citizens around him did likewise and then all the people lining the town square were bowing low, signaling their respect for the Massi royal family line.

  “We welcome you Prince Gwaynn Massi,” the man said standing erect once more. “I am Anda Botnick, local magistrate for Colchester and the surrounding lands. We have rooms set up for you and your lieutenants here in town; though I am afraid we do not have room for all your men.”

  “That’s fine,” Gwaynn said knowing that it would be better for the majority of his soldiers to remain outside of the town in any case. Their greeting paused for a moment as Sath and Bock rode into the square from the north, dismounted and walked quickly to Gwaynn’s side.